Somnambulism
by DeepSentinel
Summary: Strange things have been happening when Italy goes to sleep at night, and Germany's about to find out what. One-shot, GerIta, implied HRExChibitalia, HRE Germany theory, Fem!Italy. T because I'm paranoid. Polysomnography Part 3


**Stupid plot bunnies, they won't leave me alone. Yes, this is the fic I said I might do at the end of Circadian Rhythms. So, the same stuff applies. Fem!Italy, HRE=Germany, slight GerIta, and obvious HRE/Chibitalia.**

**Somnambulism is the technical term for sleep walking.**

**Disclaimer: Do you know how much I wish I owned this? If I did, HRE=Germany would be official and not just a well-supported rumor with a ton of evidence to support it.**

Italy opened her eyes. She was on the couch again, and from her vantage point, she could see that the kitchen was a disaster area. Again. Whenever she woke up on the couch, the kitchen would always be trashed. She would rush to clean it up and then go back to bed before Germany woke up, which was later than he did normally. Italy had no clue why this was, but just figured she woke up extra early from her uncomfortable position on the couch, so it only seemed like he woke up late to her.

She sat up and stretched, waking her body up. Walking toward the supply closet to get a broom, she paused in front of the mirror, looking herself over.

_I look like shit, _she thought. Her short brown hair was limp and messy. Her skin was pale, except for underneath her eyes, which had dark bags like she hadn't slept in days.

The anniversary was coming, she realized. The anniversary of the last day she saw the Holy Roman Empire. The day he went off to war, and unknowingly, to his death. She had observed it every year since she found out he had died, and hadn't forgotten it once.

Her body had grown accustomed to the yearly tradition of sitting inside, cooped up crying for days on end, and had already started to adjust before she realized what it meant.

_How could I have forgotten! I'm sorry, Holy Rome!_ Italy mentally apologized. The silence of the pre-sunrise morning unnerved her, and she shuddered and continued to the closet. What had made this year so different from the last that she forgot one of the most important days of the year to her?

The answer hit her. _Germany_, she thought. She had started living with him after Spain had moved in with Romano (three was a crowd. She felt like a third wheel, so she asked her best friend if she could move in with him. Germany hesitated, but said yes), and they had gone places together like the fireworks on her birthday. Maybe she thought of the tall German as something other than a friend? Something more? Italy shook her head and sighed. That was impossible. There was absolutely no way she _liked_ Germany like that.

….

Was there?

Italy tried to force the thoughts out of her head, but that just resulted in a scrunched up face and a headache. She shook her head to get rid of the pain and grabbed the cleaning supplies. Making her way to the kitchen, she thought she heard a thump, but ignored it and started cleaning up her mess.

(!)

Germany opened his eyes. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. There was no sleeping Italian next to him. And it was 2:39, he noted.

Now before any of you France-y people get the wrong idea, nothing ever happened when Italy decided to sneak into Germany's bed in the middle of the night. Germany had freaked out when she first did it, but he soon realized that she had no intentions of the France-y sort. She was far too naïve to even know what France meant when he explained CENSORED and CENSORED, so Germany had no real problem with it. He had even gotten used to it.

That's where the problem came in. Italy was not in his be when he woke up. It had gotten to the point where she had snuck in every night, whether it be from a thunder storm, or a bad dream, or "I thought Germany was lonely, ve~," so her not being there was as strange and unnatural to him as his brother suddenly becoming responsible and mature. And that was a scary thought.

Germany just closed his eyes and laid back down. She was probably just getting some water and would be back in a few minutes...

But when five minutes passed, and then ten, and then fifteen, and Italy didn't come back, Germany decided get up. She was probably fine, but he had to make sure. He moved to get out of bed... and promptly face-planted. His ankles had gotten tangled in the bed sheets.

"Scheiße*," Germany muttered, lifting himself off the floor. he made his way downstairs, not bothering to get changed or slick his hair back. There was no point, as Italy was probably fine and he could just go back to bed.

The first thing he saw when he stepped downstairs was a scene that would put a tornado to shame. There was flour and batter everywhere, even on the ceiling, and Germany had to take a few deep breaths before continuing on. When he reached the kitchen, he found Italy. Not cooking, but cleaning furiously, like she was on a deadline. Germany cleared his throat, and Italy quickly turned around, dark circles obvious underneath her eyes.

"Holy Rome!" she exclaimed. Germany raised an eyebrow, but she continued before he could interrupt her. "I'm sorry about the mess, but I was sleepwalking and made you cookies, and I usually clean it up before anyone sees. I'm sorry I forgot, and it'll never happen again, but please don't leave me again!"

Germany got down on his knees, eye level with Italy, and brought her into a hug. "I'm sorry I made you upset, but I'm not Holy Rome, whoever he is. I can tell he is very important to you, though, or else you wouldn't have gone through all that trouble. I'm sure that wherever he is, he appreciates it, too, but you should get some sleep."

"I'm sorry, Germany," Italy said, a small smile on her face. "Thank you. I'm sure he does, too" And at that, Italy passed out. whether it was from exhaustion or emotional stress, Germany wasn't sure. He carried her upstairs to bed, and them went back downstairs to finish cleaning up the kitchen. This was going to take a while…

***Scheiße: Shit (German)**

**Whoo! Finished! *happy dance* This is nothing like my original draft. Absolutely nothing. Well, the beging is the same, but then, it just kinda diverges from there. Oh well, I like this better. Please review! I like to know that people read my stuff!**


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